


spin me 'round

by SympatriCuckoo



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Masturbation, No Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Other, just bones, washing machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SympatriCuckoo/pseuds/SympatriCuckoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are perks to doing the washing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spin me 'round

**Author's Note:**

> A port over from tumblr.
> 
> Warnings: NSFW; Papyrus masturbating with a washing machine

There are perks to doing the washing. One being that clothing never shrinks or changes colors, hazards of letting Sans do the laundry.

 

But there’s another perk, a secret one. A guilty _sin_ sort of one.

 

At this point, it’s like a ritual. He collects all the clothing, never a fun chore (the less said about Sans’ room the better) made all the worse by the ache. The circuit he makes around the house is like a promise, sealed as he loads the washer. His bones rattle slightly in anticipation as he pours the detergent and starts the cycle.

 

The machine is cold but study, and Papyrus is thankful for its solid build as he presses himself against the right corner of the washer, the top corner nestled between his legs and digging into his pelvic bone.

 

As the washer fills with water, the vibrations start off small, humming through his hips. It feels good, subtle, setting the mood and getting his magic pumping. He rests his pelvis against the metal, content for the moment to passively allow the sensations to wash through him.

 

Then he starts grinding against the metal with short fast circles of his hips, the corner resting against the same spot, against the pubic symphysis, only the angle and pressuring varying. His movements change, slowing down, as the machine begins to shake more, the agitator starting to turn as the load begins to wash.

 

The vibrations are stronger now, and Papyrus drags his pelvis against the edge, no longer focused on the one spot. Instead, he grinds his entire pubic bone against the edge, so the metal plays along the foward-jutting bones in this pelvis, from the pubic tubercle to the superior ramus. He grinds left and right, side to side, the pleasure resonating through all the empty spaces.

 

With a click, the machine pauses before it begins to rumble, water draining with sloshing sounds. He has a few minutes before the rinse/spin cycle. Magic pulsing uncomfortably with both the lack of movement and the knowledge of what’s to come, Papyrus strips out of his shorts, folding them neatly on top of the dryer.

 

From the ribs down he’s naked but for a pair of knee high socks, and when he presses against the washer he shivers at the new chill pressing against the tops of this thighs. Hips swaying slightly, he slowly rubs his legs against the sides of the washer, basking in the smooth glide over his bones, the corner rubbing up and down the center of his pelvis.

 

Another click and water starts flowing into the washer and Papyrus presses himself flush against the machine. He raises a hand to his mouth, anticipation sending him panting, prepared to stifle any cries.

 

A few drips of water plop coyly before the drum begins to spin and the washer begins to shake in earnest, and Papyrus hangs on, his free hand holding onto the back of the washer, knees clasping the metal between his legs. He rides the sensations, head hanging forward and back hunched, vibrations thrumming through his entire body until even his soul is shaking along with the vibrations and pleasure.

 

With a broken whine, he humps against the metal, coordination broken. His soul flares beneath his shirt, orange light spilling down his spine and casting his pelvis into stark contrast-all orange and shadows. He slumps against the top of the washer then slides down so that he’s resting against the side, legs folded underneath his body; his eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, teeth parted in an open-mouthed smile.


End file.
